The Lies We Tell Ourselves
by Acadia Cor
Summary: "This is our bane, Maximum. Man cannot deny his existence any more than his existence can deny him." Maximum Ride was not expecting to be transported to England via a can of peaches so that the Flock could follow their higher calling as wizards. She definitely wasn't expecting to enjoy it.
1. In Which I Harass a Pirate

**Slayer made me post this (against my wishes, I might add) so I'll try to make juggling two stories at once work...Maybe. **

**Things you need to know:**

**-the Flock are ages 16, 14, 12, and 10, respectively.  
-everything and anything I write that is MR completely disregards things after book three. They might be older, but 4-8 ****_never happened_****. Shush.  
-this takes place in Harry's 6th year. Events will be skewed since the Flock changes the course of things.  
-The ships will be as follows: Fang/Max, eventual Ron/Hermione, Iggy/Mystery Canon HP Girl, and Nudge/Mystery Canon HP Guy. Ooh, mysterious, eh?**

**This is one of my only first-person narratives, so hold onto your hats ladies and gents.**

* * *

Things just don't go as planned for us and I don't know _why_ it's so hard for the universe to just give us a break for a day or so. I mean, it's not as if we mess up its mojo too much. It's almost as if events around us warp just enough to fuck us over once or twice and it's been happening since we've been born.

But I guess you get what's coming to you when you're just another mutant with wings.

* * *

I don't like pears. I'm not sure where this innate hatred of all things pear-like, pear-shaped, and pear-flavoured comes from. All I do know is that I really don't like to get within a 100 metre radius of pears. They're...icky. But what does Nudge show up with? A bag of pears.

"Hey Max!" She shouted as she ran down the aisle of the supermarket to catch up with Fang and me. His tanned fingers were gripping the shopping cart that was currently being filled with various brands of cereal. We were on wheat duty, Nudge on produce, and Iggy on dairy. (The Gasman and Angel were back at my mom's house playing scrabble with Ella, who began to lose hopelessly as soon as Angel whipped out her evil eye and peeked into her mind for bits of info.) Nudge held up a sack of red netting that contained around eleven pears. "Can we get these?"

I took one look at the stuff and shook my head and replied flatly. "No."

"Pleeeease…?" Nudge drew the word out. "Everyone else likes them but you!"

"I don't like pears," Fang said simply, adding his two bits to the convo.

"See?" I put my hands on my hips. "Majority rules. Now put the pears back, Nudge."

"That's not even a majority," Nudge threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, muttering to herself as she trudged back to the fruit section. "When I grow up I'm going to eat all the pears I want to and not even Max can stop me because pears are so good and she just doesn't _get it_ with all of the…."

I watched her go with narrowed eyes and then turned to Fang and scowled because I just remembered him telling me on one occasion that pears were his favorite fruit. I think he was a bit out of it at the time, but that doesn't change his stance towards the little green monsters. "You like pears."

"So?" Fang asked, shrugging as if the matter wasn't of any importance at all.

"Why did you lie?" I still wasn't catching onto the social cues at this point. Poor me.

"Because you don't like pears."

It sort of caught me by surprise. I mean, I knew that he had lied for me before, but this was just a squabble over the devil incarnate stuffed into a fruit body of all things. It wasn't a big deal, not nearly as big as I made it seem, but it was all of the little things that added up to the big picture. We'd been dating for a few months now, but anything that even held a faint whiff of relationshippy-ness sort of sent me careening into the next aisle to join the fish in their eternal mob boss slumber. Unfortunately, I was so distracted dissecting every little word that came out of the boy's beautiful mouth that my forehead collided with a sign for a half off coupon on Lucky Charms and I was down on my ass in the middle of the supermarket's cheap tiling.

"Smooth," Fang chuckled, holding out a hand to pull me up when I just stared back at him in astonishment.

"I don't know where that sign came from, I swear," I said, dusting off the back of my jeans. "It just…appeared."

Speaking of things that just 'appeared,' there was something farther down the aisle that wasn't there before. I know, I must sound like a real whack job with all of the fangirling and pear hating, but I was sure that the man in the greatcoat and brown leather belt wasn't there a second ago. He was examining a can of peaches on the opposite shelf, his long, stringy hair hanging to his chin and barely obscuring his lips that were whispering something to - and I know this is going to sound even crazier - the can of high fructose corn syrup-infused peaches.

He didn't have a shopping cart; he wasn't carrying anything with him to buy. If I didn't know any better I would have thought that he had gotten lost at the annual pirate convention, so what was he doing here in a suburban grocery store? It didn't make any sense, and it made even less sense when he set the can back, looked me straight in the eye, and then left around the next corner.

"Hey!" I called after him, trying to get his attention.

"Max, what-"

"I'll be right back," I said to Fang, who either hadn't noticed the pirate man or didn't care, and dashed around to the next aisle of food. But the man wasn't there and he wasn't in the aisle over either. In fact, he wasn't in the entire damn supermarket, which frustrated me to no end. If he wasn't here, where could he have gone?

"I have yoghurt, cheese, milk, the works," Iggy said triumphantly, putting a big handful of miscellaneous dairy ingredients in Fang's cart and pumping his fist into the air. "Tonight we feast!"

"I can't find him," I sighed, jogging back to the cart.

"Who?" Iggy asked. "Me? Because I'm right here."

"No, not you," I punched him lightly on the bicep. "The other guy, the weird pirate one!"

"Have you been smoking something I should know about?" Iggy asked, rubbing his shoulder.

"He was right there," I swung my arm to indicate the canned goods shelf.

"I've got apples," Nudge trilled, hefting the apples, oranges, and some lettuce into the cart. "So are we done here?"

"Not yet, Max is having a mini-meltdown." Iggy rolled his eyes, even though I'm sure he was unaware that he was doing so in the first place.

"I'm not, he was there!" I contested. "He was holding a can of-" I paused abruptly as an epiphany began to bubble up in my brain. "The peaches!"

And at this point you can imagine how bizarre I looked to innocent passersby, rambling on about a pirate and some peaches, but at the time I believed it all to be true. If only I knew what I was getting into then I wouldn't have tried to go after him at all, let alone do what came next.

I marched over to the can that he was holding and picked it up, immediately feeling a tug in my gut. The air began to swirl around me and I felt as if I was being stuffed into a tube of insulation.

Penny in the air.

"Max-" Fang lunged and tried to grab my arm.

"No!" Nudge shouted.

Fang, Iggy, and Nudge all leapt after me, down the world's weirdest rabbit hole. In a few seconds we were gone from the supermarket and spit out into a room with high, vaulted ceilings and some serious need for a roof to keep the clouds out. The bad part, we were in mid-air. With a yelp, all four of us bird kids dropped down onto a long banquet table set out with food. Nudge got herself an elbow full of stuffing, Iggy a butt of creamed spinach, and I landed smack dab into what looked and smelled like a Jack O'Lantern decided to toss his cookies. Fang got off easy and landed on the cleared table in front of me without a scratch on him. Not cool, man.

I struggled into a sitting position, shaking off the excess pumpkin juice from my luscious locks of hair, and finally got a good look at the place. For one, we were surrounded by very astonished-looking students in old fashioned robes. Different tables were wearing different colours and there was a table of older people at the front, looking more angry and pestered than anything.

I smiled unconvincingly. "Er…hi."

Penny drops.

* * *

**Now how is that for an entrance? The Flock always arrive in style, don't you know? And the question of the day is...**

**Which houses do you think the Flock will be sorted into?**

**Review below with your thoughts!**

**-Acca**


	2. In Which Dumbledear Isn't Gandalf

**Because of previous chapter's shortness, here is chapter two!**

* * *

Chillaxing on a table in a bowl of food is not very high on my list of things that I like to do in my spare time, even more so when there's spectators about. _Especially_ if those spectators are decked out in medieval sorcery garb. The Cultural Revolution obviously hadn't hit them just yet.

"My food!" A boy with red hair sobbed in a distinctly English accent, looking at the plate that Iggy had landed his ass in. Iggy stood up off of the table, feeling for the edge and trying to wipe the spinach off of his pants.

"Sorry, dude," Iggy said, truly meaning it. "Condolences."

Nudge scraped the stuffing from her elbow, getting off lightly without anything on her clothes. I knew she'd have a fit if her new Forever21 shirt had been ruined by an inconvenient trip to Ye Olde England and I'd never hear the end of it.

Fang stood, taking a cursory glance about the room, and focusing his attention on Gandalf sitting up in his throne-like chair with his legs crossed in a very un-Gandalf sort of way. Fang began to walk down the table, almost strutting like he was on a runway. I half expected him to spontaneously break out into a dance number. (You don't know how long I've wished for that day to come.)

I stood up and followed him, opting to walk on the ground because I wouldn't appreciate it if a bunch of silly American walked all over my table. Nudge tugged on Iggy's hand, directing him towards where Fang and I were. Fang jumped off of the table once he reached the end, the entire room flinching as his boots impacted with the floor. The man in the grey robes (obv. hasn't been promoted to Gandalf the White yet) stood and supported himself with the podium in front of the table of adults. He wasn't all that frail, but one of his hands was black and crumbling. Yikes.

"Maximum Ride," Gandalf said, his voice low and grumbling like a grandfather that constantly talks about World War II no matter how many times you tell him to stop. I tried not to recoil in shock. He knew our names or, at least, mine. That really shouldn't surprise me anymore. A lot of the baddies tend to know us. "I am so glad that you decided to join us for dinner."

"Uh, excuse me?" I scoffed. "We were pulled through the pipes to get here and let me tell you, you guys really need to flush some Drain-O around there because it was a bit of a tight squeeze."

"What my friend was oh-so-politely trying to say is, why are we here?" Iggy flicked me upside the head and I scowled, rubbing my head.

"That is a story for another time," Gandalf said placidly. "For now sit, eat, I will talk to you after the feast."

"I think now would be better," I said, pressing the subject. I really didn't want to sit down with a bunch of pansies in hats and make merry. I'm not the merrymaking type.

Gandalf looked over the adults and made a decision, stepping down from the podium. "Very well, come with me to my office. As for you, students," he turned to the aforementioned pansies. "Continue to eat. Professor McGonagall will dismiss you at the end of dinner."

My eyes connected with Fang's and we nodded. I followed Gandalf out a side door. Either this was a very wise decision and he's the king of Candy Mountain, or we just made a deal with a mass murderer and were going to be in some deep shit. I don't know why I expected the worst, but the universe has never given us the best of luck, so I just hoped that his old man act wasn't just an act and marched into what I thought might be my untimely doom.

* * *

It wasn't my untimely doom I was marching too but a less threatening and altogether more laughable fate than I could have even imagined. The boss man led us to a pair of gargoyles and whispered something with a flourish of his good hand, the gargoyles politely stepping out of the way to let us pass. So far, not the strangest thing I've seen, but it definitely gets within my top ten.

"Now, Maximum, we have many things to talk about." He sat behind a large oaken desk in a comfortable-looking leather arm chair. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of this school, and this is my office."

And the thing he said so modestly was just an 'office' was a large circular room with all manner of strange and interesting objects, some stationary and some that moved on their own. The ceilings were painted with flamboyant star constellations. The Flock and I ducked as a bird flew overhead and alighted on the stand next to Dumbledore's desk.

"Okay, Rumbleroar," I said warily, crouched in a fighting stance as I approached his desk with the Flock behind me. "What is this place? Why are we here? I want some answers, stat."

"This is the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore said simply. "And you, along with the other members of your Flock, are here because the Ministry of Magic has recently discovered you to have magical properties. Your power is untapped, we are not sure of how much that you possess, but we do know that with that much power you require schooling, which is why you were brought here."

"We're _wizards_?" I repeated, dumbfounded, my jaw dropping at what had just popped out of Dumbledear's mouth. A serious shit storm was swirling around my brain and in the center of it was a big picture of me saying _lolwut?_

"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded. "And I would enjoy it if you would consider attending Hogwarts. We have state of the art wards that can prevent any Muggles (non-magical folk) from penetrating the grounds. No one from the School would be able to find you here."

"What about Angel and Gazzy?" Nudge asked. "'Cos they were still at home playing Scrabble with Ella when we left to go and get groceries. Oh no! Now they won't have food for dinner tonight, what will we do? I mean we could just pop back and buy the food and then pop back here, but I dunno if that can of peaches works both ways, yeah? Or we could just-"

"They will be perfectly fine," Dumbledore assured us. "An Auror has charmed the house to repel any hostile intruders and an owl has been sent to inform your mother of your absence."

"Is it the same guy that plucked us out of a supermarket in broad daylight?" I asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"He doesn't always have the best of timing," Dumbledore replied. I raised my eyebrow further. "Or location choices, but he did get you here right on time. Our beginning of term feast has just begun. If you do choose to stay we can have you sorted quickly and then settle you into your rooms."

Fang and I locked gazes again. He didn't want to stay, I could tell. I knew Nudge wanted to, since any sort of excuse to wear excess fabric was something she was required to add to her repertoire. Iggy wouldn't like a new place to map out in his brain, but those guys in the great hall weren't too noisy, so that would be a nice change.

Dumbledore interrupted out silent conference by clearing his throat. "I will add that if you train in magic you will be more powerful than ever before; ready for any threat. Also, we can have Madame Pomfrey research a cure for Iggy's blindness. It will take some time, but a magical cure would work better than a medical one."

The Flock and I returned to our silent conference, Fang still wasn't convinced, but as soon as Iggy clasped my hand from behind I knew that we had to stay, if only to get the cure and then vamoose. I squeezed Iggy's hand in response and he relaxed his tense shoulders.

With one more glance at Fang I answered, "We'll stay. But one one condition. You _do_ find a cure for Iggy's eyes. That's all we're staying for. Once we get that, we're out."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore chuckled and stood from his desk, leading us back out through his office. "But you may soon discover that you enjoy Hogwarts more than you originally thought."

* * *

The thing we had to participate in before being allowed to enter into our crapload of studies at Hogwarts was the sorting ceremony starring, yours sincerely, the Sorting Hat. It's a big lump of useless fabric that saw better days in the time of Charlemagne, but when it's put on your head, whammo! It's alive. Creepier than it sounds, really.

It began with the female professor that was appointed to student dismissal before Dumbledore saw us in his office. She was holding a scroll for formality's sake and read out names out one by one.

"An impromptu sorting ceremony will be done for these students who have recently entered Hogwarts from their transfer academy. We will begin with the youngest." Her voice was prim and quiet enough to have everyone's rapt attention but loud enough so she could be heard. She coughed and then began.

"Nudge."

Some of the students narrowed their eyes in confusion at Nudge, who bravely walked up to the stool and sat down, having the hat placed on her head. Being a one-name wonder gets you weird looks considering we don't have a surname to adopt at all except for me.

The thing jumped like someone woke it up in the middle of a nap, sort of shaking sleep out of its eyes if it even had eyes at all. "Is it next year already?" It asked. "Then I'll start my song-"

"Just a second sorting," Professor McGonagall tapped it on the brim.

"Ah...So what do we have here?" It rasped, entering Nudge's mind. She began to shrink underneath the weight of the hat, unaccustomed to the sudden invasion, but I flashed her a smile and she straightened right up. "A bit of tragedy, some remorse. No...more tragedy than I have ever seen. You have suffered at the hands of many, but have stood tall through the wreckage."

"You think? Yeah, I really like how tall I am," Nudge blathered. "A lot of people say that it's a bit of a disadvantage because boys don't date girls taller than them, but then there's all of those supermodels and they're _suuuper_ pretty and I like to think I'm just like them. I mean, Max and Angel always tell me I'm really pretty and-"

"GRYFFINDOR." The hat shouted, interrupting Nudge. A cheer went up from the yellow and red section of tables. Nudge shrugged with a little smile on her lips and skipped down to join the end of the Gryffindor tables, who happily made space for her.

"Iggy," Professor McGonagall called.

Iggy stood up but didn't know which direction the sorting hat and the stool were. He tugged on Fang's sleeve, who whispered in his ear. Iggy nodded and set off towards the chair, feeling the edge of the wood uncertainly and then sitting down. The sorting hat was placed on his head and immediately Iggy blanched to an even whiter shade of pale.

"Incredibly sharp for a boy of your age, but you waste it on mischief," the hat deduced. "Explosives and pyrotechnics are in your nature, but they are not who you truly are. You truly enjoy learning and knowledge. I think you shall be sorted into..._Ravenclaw_."

The blue and bronze length of tables cheered loudly and Iggy looked relieved, walking down the steps and sitting in an empty seat. I was beginning to get worried. What if we were all separated? How will we be able to talk to each other? Do the different houses even communicate? None of them sit with each other, but that might just be a rule thing. Maybe they are all really good friends outside of classes...Maybe.

"Fang." McGonagall called, holding up the hat for Fang. He practically sauntered like a criminal to the chopping block, giving me way too long of a view of his ass. He knows what that does to me. Damn rogue.

He crossed one leg over his other, resting his right ankle on his left knee in a devil-may-care posture. The hat began to speak.

"You are proved to have much loyalty in you...Fang. What an interesting name. Yes...loyalty, patience, and an inventive mind. All very good qualities in a Hufflepuff."

The mousy-looking table of yellow and black looked ecstatic that Fang was about to become one of theirs.

"Please don't sort me with those losers," Fang muttered, low enough for the hat and few others to hear.

"Said like a true...Slytherin!" The green and silver team jumped out of their seats in victory. "But be careful, Fang. Although you are cunning, the ruthless nature of a Slytherin may not be close to your personality. Make wise choices."

Fang plopped the hat back on its stool without another thought, sending a backwards glance towards me before sitting next to a gaggle of boys with slicked back hair.

"Maximum Ride."

My name rang out around the great hall. No one was eating anymore, all of their attention having been focused on us. The entire hall was silent, save for my combat boots clumping against the stones embedded in the floor. I eventually made it past the stares and to the stool where I took the hat from Professor McGonagall and put it on my head myself. Let me tell you, I was not prepared for this.

_Hello, Maximum_. The hat's voice appeared inside my head, making me jump like all of those times that Angel spoke in my mind before. _Let's get started, shall we?_

I felt a probing finger try to access my memories. I resisted squirming like a child..

_My, my, we are a tough cookie to crack, aren't you?_ The teasing edge in its tone should have clued me in that it was up to something, but I realized this when it was already too late. I felt a stabbing pain in my skull as the hat began to sift through my memories, _confidential_ memories, thank you very much.

"Get. Out." I growled, my knuckles turning white as a clenched the edges of my seat.

_Very well then_. "You have been through the same trials as the others, yet you do not show as much pain to them. You have strength," the hat said. "You are a leader in a world of leaders. Throughout your life you have shown great bravery, but also crippling pride. Do not forget these things, Maximum Ride, even as fame befalls you." The hat paused. "_Gryffindor!_"

* * *

**Although the houses probably weren't what everyone was expecting for Nudge and Iggy, I have a plan. Yes, a _plan_. And the question of the day is...**

**Do you think Dumbledore will make good on his promise to cure Iggy? Should Iggy even be cured at all?**

**-Acca**


	3. In Which the Sky is Made of Diamonds

**At this point the plot = slow. The Flock is trying to ease themselves into their new life, but I _will_ introduce an actual plot sometime soon (maybe five chapters down the road, after all of the fun stuff.) Enjoy!**

* * *

I let out the breath that I didn't realize I had been holding in, ripping the hat from my head and joining Nudge in the Gryffindor section. At least I was together with one member of my Flock.

"Students, you are house's head boy and girl will lead you to the dormitories." Professor McGonagall picked up the sorting hat and scroll, exiting through a side door with the rest of the professors.

Nudge and I stood. I locked eyes with Fang and he sent me a silent message. _I'll find you later_. He waved goodbye before following his house out of the hall. Iggy went with the crowd up to Ravenclaw Tower. Gryffindor was next to last to get out of the hall. God, this was taking forever.

"C'mon, Nudge, let's make it to the front of this line," I grumbled, Nudge and I clasping each other's wrists so we wouldn't be separated in the crowd, but as soon as we reached the beginning of the Gryffindor group a wall of students my age blocked us.

"Excuse me, but first years are shown to the dormitories before other students," a girl with brown hair that needed some serious deep conditioning said. She had a cursive 'P' badge stitched onto her robes and a serious expression on her face. "What year are you in?"

"Eh, not sure exactly," I replied. "I could ring Dumbledear up and ask."

"Oh, are you two the new transfer students?" The girl perked up, her brown eyes lit with a spark.

"Yes, it is them!" The red haired boy next to her exclaimed. "'Mione, these are the people that fell in my food at the feast!"

"Ignore him," she rolled her eyes and stuck out her hand to shake. "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Ronald. You are?"

"Maximum Ride." I reluctantly shook her hand, taking every precaution to avoid being judo flipped, even though she didn't seem like the judo flipping type.

"Hi, I'm Nudge!" Nudge jostled me to the side to shake everyone's hand. Boy, she'll be popular in her grade.

"Well," Hermione looked over the tops of the crowd of students. "Ron and I have to direct the first years, but you can join us if you like since you haven't seen the dormitories before." She turned around and began to walk away, herding the younger children into a clump.

"Come on," Ron gestured for us to follow them up the stairs. So far, so good, until the staircase began to move.

"Woah nelly." I held the railing of marble staircase as it shuddered, connecting with a different floor than it did with the previous group of students. The staircases of Hogwarts were really something to see. Layers upon layers of moving pathways and the doors that went with them were stacked along the walls with paintings that moved and talked, more often than not hiding a secret entrance to somewhere else. I caught a glimpse of blue as the Ravenclaws ascended to a tower that I guess was where they stayed.

"Did you have charmed staircases and enchanted paintings at your last school?" Hermione asked.

"Ha, well," I trailed off, trying to keep up the guise that we had studied magic before. "Not really. We were more, uh, _low key_."

"Interesting." Hermione said, facing a painting of a Weight Watchers member in a pink dress.

"Password?" the fat lady asked.

"_Baubles_," Hermione said and the painting swung inward.

First year students began to pour into the common room, Nudge and I hanging around in the back until they had all gone off to look at their rooms. I couldn't believe my eyes, I mean the place was bigger than our last house and it must have some serious smaller-on-the-outside technology to be able to contain the rather boisterous Gryffindor house. A fire was crackling to my right, ringed by high-backed velvet armchairs that older students lounged in, reading books or talking. One hurriedly put out some sort of cigarette when Hermione stepped into the room.

"Seamus Finnigan," she glared at him. "How many times have I told you not to smoke in the common room? Do you want to Gryffindor to start out with negative points this year?" She took out a long wand and muttered a spell, the cigarette erupting into cinders.

"'Mione!" Seamus stood up in outrage. "That was my last one!"

"_Good_," she said sternly, putting her wand away and leaving to help the first years. "They rot your teeth."

Seamus collapsed back into his chair with an overly dramatic sigh and rubbed his forehead as if just Hermione's presence could cause a headache. His head lolled to the side but he perked up when his eyes settled on Nudge and I ogling Gryffindor Tower. He nudged the shoulders of Dean and Neville, who were playing a game of wizard chess to his right.

"Hey mates, look," he stage whispered. "It's the bird from the sorting ceremony!"

Neville and Dean turned around in their chairs to get a better look, Neville's queen obliterating one of Dean's pawns with a crack of her throne.

"Hey!" Seamus whistled to get my attention, a crooked grin on his face. "What's your name?"

I rolled my eyes. "In your dreams, buddy boy."

"I was just asking your name," Seamus feigned innocence.

"Yeah," I snorted. "Sure."

"What year are you in, sweetheart?" He crooned.

"Whichever one you're not." I retorted.

"C'mon, Max," Nudge tugged on my hand. "Let's got check out our rooms."

She managed to tear my attention away from pummeling the boy, and we managed to locate Hermione again. She was giving a lecture to the first years by the split staircases.

"The rooms to the left are for the boys, to the right are the girls," She pointed each way. "If a boy tries to go into the girls' rooms and vice versa, an enchantment will block them and an alarm will be sounded, so keep that as fair warning. Room assignments are in your acceptance letter. Please unpack your trunks and be ready for breakfast in the morning. 8 am sharp."

The first years dispersed up their respective staircases, Hermione in the center, checking off who went where and at what time.

"You sort of run this joint, don't you?" I asked.

"Huh?" She looked up from her clipboard. "No, I'm just a prefect. The head girl is...occupied." I followed her gaze to see a girl sitting on a tall boy's lap, chatting away. "Did you need something?"

"We didn't exactly get acceptance letters, so if you could tell us where to go that'd be great," I said.

"Yeah, Max is really bad at directions," Nudge added. "She never knows where to go. Like one time we got lost in the middle of-mghmnff!" I clapped my hand over her mouth to get her to stop talking.

"How old are you?" Hermione asked, flipping to another page of her prodigious stack of parchment.

"Sixteen," I said.

"Thirteen or, er, fourteen," Nudge said, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion. "Did I have a birthday already, Max?"

"Today's the 27th, yeah?" I thought on it. "Then you're fourteen as of last week. I bet Iggy's pissed he didn't get to make you a cake."

"I wish he had, his lemon butter cakes are to die for!" Nudge moaned. "Not literally, but you get the idea."

"You don't know your own birthdays?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"We've never been told what they were, so we just end up guessing." I shrugged. "It's no biggie."

"Huh." Hermione looked at us strangely and ticked something off on her parchment with long white feather quill. Talk about Dark Ages. "Well, Max would be in sixth year with me, Nudge in fourth year. The number should be on the door."

"Thanks," I flashed her a smile as Nudge passed her and walked up the steps to our rooms. "You're a big help."

The doors were in a semicircular configuration, the number of the years nailed onto each of them. Nudge found her fourth year door quickly as did I my sixth year door. They were just a few metres from each other.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?" I hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. "We'll find Iggy and Fang at breakfast."

"Okay," She mumbled into my shirt.

"Good night," I said as she put her hand on the knob of her dorm's door.

"Oh, Max?" She turned back around.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I like it here," she smiled.

I returned the grin. "Me too."

* * *

Iggy's brain was just a mess. So many sounds and smells and textures assaulting his mind and just spinning him this way and that. He got lost within a few second. At this point he usually just goes with the crowd, but he wasn't sure _which_ crowd to go with. Everyone was shouting to each other and he couldn't take it.

"Do you need any help?"

The voice had an airy quality to it, as if it didn't belong in this school, let alone any human place. It was a girl's, definitely, and it sounded kind. Iggy turned towards the girl.

"I'm Luna," she said. "You must be Iggy."

"Ah, you were paying attention earlier," Iggy replied bitterly. "Lucky me."

"Come," Luna set her hand on Iggy's elbow. "I'll take you to the Ravenclaw common room. That is where you were sorted, yes?"

"Yep."

"Be careful," Luna warned. "There are nargles about. They seem to have a keep interest in your eyes."

"Blind," Iggy gestured to them, trying to play off his disability.

"No, I don't think that's why." Luna looped her arm through Iggy's and they walked with the crowd to the first staircase. It began to turn. "I find it very interesting that you transferred here so late. Are you in 6th year?"

"I guess," Iggy replied. "Dumbledore didn't really explain it."

"You're a year above me, but no matter." Luna said dreamily. "Your friends were sorted into Harry Potter's house."

"Who's he?" asked Iggy.

"He is the most famous modern wizard. The Boy Who Lived," Luna stated. "He's a 6th year as well."

"Famous at the age of 16? I can relate." The marble of the steps was slick underneath Iggy's boots.

"Are you famous among wizards?" Luna asked, looking up at him.

"Ha, no," Iggy shook his head. "And not famous in the good sense of the word."

They had reached the entrance into Ravenclaw's common room. Luna advised Iggy to watch his step and they were inside the lofty accommodations for the cleverest students on the grounds.

"What..." Iggy paused, hesitant with someone he knew so little about. "What does it look like?"

"Oh, the common room? It's nothing special, really." Luna said. "Would you like to sit down? I could tell you about it."

"Sure." They sat down in heavily cushioned velvet chairs opposite each other.

"The carpet is a deep midnight, a marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, our founder, by the entrance. There's two doors by that, it's where the girls and boys dormitories are located. Above the boys' one is a nasty nest of wrackspurts, watch out for that when you go to bed tonight," Luna began. "The walls are a light cerulean and the ceiling is painted with all of the stars in the universe, twinkling like diamonds..."

* * *

**Yes, ships are beginning to form! Iggy/Luna might not be a romantic ship, though, but I like the way she describes things in her own little way. It's very enchanting and Iggy likes it too, very whimsical. Next chapter is full of Fang making mischief and being in places he shouldn't. Draco gets a bit huffy.**

**And the question of the day is...**

**What ships would you like to see as the story progresses? **

**-Acca**


	4. In Which the Brits Ruin Things

I crashed in my bed face down, boots still firmly laced on my feet, before I even got a chance to say hello to the five other girls with whom I shared a room. Luckily enough, Hermione managed to nudge me awake in time for breakfast.

I slouched out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glancing at the other girls who were getting dressed. A trunk had either appeared at the end of my bed in the night or been there when I had arrived and I was just hopefully oblivious to its existence. It was large and done up in dark brown leather with big buckles, similar to the trunks at the end of the other girls' beds. I opened it to reveal a neat stack of books to the left, an assortment of sweaters, skirts, ties, and shirts to the right. A pocket above it held a roll of parchment with a red wax seal holding it closed. I broke the seal with my thumb and out tumbled a wand that stuck in between the books and the clothes.

_Maximum,_

_I hope you had a lovely trip to Hogwarts. The Hogwarts scholarship board have extended their generosity to buy you and your Flock's supplies for this coming school year. Enclosed should be a wand that will suit you until you are ready to find your own. Please wear the robes with the house tie or you will be in violation of dress code. Your class schedule is in your book _Hogwarts, A History_ and is identical to other girls' schedules in your year. Enjoy breakfast!_

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

I pawed through the clothes, picking out a not-so-hideous grey sweater, tie, and a shirt with which to wear it. The skirt I was apprehensive about, but there weren't any pants in here, so I pulled it on anyway along with the long black robes with a Gryffindor crest embroidered over the heart. The brogues didn't fit, so I kept my combat boots on and scrunched down the grey knee socks.

_There_, I thought, inspecting my handiwork. _That looks better_.

The other girls had left by now, so I grabbed my schedule and stuffed it in the waistband of my skirt, as these useless robes didn't have any pockets, and dashed out the door, closing it behind me. Unfortunately, someone else had a similar idea and we bumped right into each other, landing on the floor.

"McGonagall isn't going to let you keep those boots," the girl laughed, her stick straight red hair flopping in front of her ear. "She's a stickler for dress code and would despise anything that makes our uniform look cool in the slightest."

"Well I had to do _something_ to improve this getup." I stood up, brushing myself off. I held my hand out to help the other girl up. "I'm Max."

She took it. "Ginny Weasley, nice to meet you. Want to go get breakfast?"

"Sure," I said. "I was going to need help to get there anyway. Those stairs are an impossible maze."

"Not used to the enchantments, huh?" Ginny asked as we walked down the stairs. "Then this term should be fun. You have N.E.W.T.S to pass."

"I have to pass a gross amphibian?" I asked, confused.

"No," Ginny shook her head and chuckled. "They're a sort of standardized testing. That's what you call them in America, yeah? They see if you're ready to pick a profession yet."

"Cool, but I'm new to all of this business, so I don't think I'll fit into the frame of magical tax broker." We walked out of the Gryffindor common room and into the bustle of students. I could see Nudge a few flights down, waiting for the staircase to connect. She was talking and laughing with her friends, the other girls in her year touching her hair as she yammered on about something (probably which shampoo she uses). I was glad to see that she was fitting in with the other girls in her grade instead of sitting like a leper in the corner. She looked up and waved at me with a bright, wide smile. I returned the wave.

"Who's she?" Ginny asked as we descended the first flight of stairs.

"My sister," I said, then followed it up hastily with, "We're adopted."

"Are the others adopted too?" Ginny asked as we walked down the second staircase.

"We have two younger siblings at home with my mom," I said, wracking my brain for a lie to tell. "Iggy and Fang are brothers."

"Really?" Ginny asked, looking surprised. "They're such opposites."

"Well..." My voice trailed off. "...genetics."

She tried to hide her suspicion as we reached the doors the the Grand Hall that were so big you could drive an AT-AT through them and not even crumble a stone. Nudge was still chatting away with her friends, but bounced over when she saw me.

"Hey Max!" She smiled. "I just looooove this place. It's so big and airy and the bed in my room is so soft that it feels like I'm sleeping on a milion clouds. Not, like, you could make a mattress out of clouds since its water vapor and all. Isn't that a weird word, 'vapor'? It sounds so grown up, like you're speaking in a British accent. Hehe, _vapor_."

I drew her into a crushing hug and placed a peck on her forehead. "Chill out, motormouth. You might scare off the wizards."

"Oh, yeah, forgot," She twirled a piece of her hair with her pinkie finger. She bounded back towards her friends and they tittered together, skipping into the Great Hall. "Well, I'll see you at breakfast. Bye!"

"She seems nice," Ginny said, rifling through her robes for something.

"Yeah." My stomach rumbled loudly. "When do we get food in this joint?"

"In around five minutes," she replied, pulling out her schedule and straightening it against her knee. "I usually wait around for my mates to appear, but they're probably already inside. Let's go." She casually looped her arm with mine, a girlish gesture that I was unaccustomed to, and led me inside the hall.

It was no less grand than it was last night except the sky was clear outside, which meant no clouds on the ceiling today. Food was laid out on the table, steam wafting up from different pies and hot cereals. Ginny and I sat at one end with Hermione, Ron, and a brown-haired boy. Nudge was a few people down with her fourth year friends. A few girls in Ginny's year sat across from her.

"Max, this is Hermione and Ron," Ginny said pointing to each of them. "Ron's my brother and a total pain in the-Oi!" Ron cuffed her upside the head. She rubbed her hair and then continued. "And that's Harry Potter." She paused and everyone at the table looked at me like goldfish anticipating a midnight snack.

"What?" I asked, getting freaked out by their Stepford Wives level of scaritude.

"Guess he's not famous in America," Hermione shrugged and resumed reading her book.

"He's the Boy Who Lived, the _greatest_ wizard in all of Britain," Ginny told me, hyping him up like a two-bit pop star.

"Yeah," I scoffed. "He looks like a regular twinkle toes."

"Anyway, this is Max," Ginny showed me off to the table like a prized airedale.

"I'm not famous," Harry admonished, blushing and picking at his foot with his fork.

"Like hell you aren't," Ron said gruffly. "This kid defeated You-Know-Who when he was just still in diapers."

"I don't know who," I replied, piling food into my plate.

"What?" Ron looked at me like I was a one eared kangaroo, the porridge slipping off of his spoon and back into his bowl.

"You said You-Know-Who, and I don't know who." It was simple statement. He should have caught on by now.

"He means the Dark Lord Voldemort," Harry explained.

"Oooh, sounds kinky." I picked up a grape and popped it into my mouth. Harry blushed even more and cleared his throat, resuming the food-picking. I grinned like a madman. "You guys embarrass so easily."

"So what's the news with Dumbledore?" Hermione decided to change the conversation. "His hand was, well..."

"It's dark magic," Harry said quietly, taking a bite of his eggs. "He told me last night. Incurable."

"Oh." Silence settled over the table again. I took this as an opportunity to shove more food into my face. A hungry birdkid is not a happy birdkid.

"What I want to know is how Snape'll die this year," Ron said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice.

"Huh?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting to the top of my forehead.

"He was just assigned the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Ginny said. "None of them stay for more than a year. Some don't survive. The position's cursed"

"And he's happy about his new job?" I bit into some toast.

"He's ecstatic," Ron said "Bloody mad, he is. I hope it's a knock on the head. Maybe a spell-gone-wrong. Wouldn't it be ironic if he was killed by a Death Eater?"

I blew out a low whistle. "I've hated many an authority figure in my time, but wanting a guy dead? No bueno. This dude can't be _that_ bad."

All eyes swung to me with level glares. "He's that bad," Ron said, digging into his breakfast without another word. A long pause stretched across the table before anyone spoke again, the discussion of the Snape assassination plot putting a bit of a damper on things.

"So how do you like Hogwarts, Max?" Ginny asked cheerfully, picking up the pep for Gryffindor house.

"Well I haven't been here long but-" I was stopped by a figure behind me that set a hand on my shoulder. The sleeve of his robes were black with green and silver. Fang. I could see as he sat down next to me and made himself at home that he wasn't wearing the uniform underneath the robes. He had a form-fitting black t-shirt and dark jeans on with black combat boots. The traditional clothes of a rebel on the run. "Good morning."

"Is it? I didn't notice." His voice was low, his eyes shifting towards the other faces at the table, trying to decode their motives. Fang was always on edge.

I rolled my eyes. "What's up?"

"Can't I come and see you?" He teased, jostling me.

"If you haven't noticed, buddy boy, your table is over there." I pointed towards the crisply dressed mavens of the Slytherin house.

"I don't like them." He replied simply.

I gave him a look.

"They _snore_." He was being petulant.

"So you came complaining to me?" I scoffed. "Go and give them a right hook if they bother you any. You don't need my help."

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me in close, whispering into my ear. "I don't like being away from you." A shiver crawled its way down my spine, his breath tingling against my ear. "Let's go flying."

I shook my head no. He released my waist and engaged me in a staring contest, pleading his case. "I said no." More staring. "Fang, don't make me take this up with the others." Oh god, he was bringing out the bambi eyes. I could feel my resolve crumbling that very second. "Shit," I swore underneath my breath. "Fine, okay? You get your wish. But _later_." I stressed the later.

He stood with a smug smile and kissed me on the forehead. I screwed up my face, irritated. "See you _later_, Max." The word 'later' held a different meaning on his tongue as he sauntered back to his seat. I immediately turned as red as a cherry pie.

"Idiot," I muttered, turning back to face the table. Everyone looked at me like goldfish in a bowl. "Ah, you heard all of that, didn't you?"

"Who is he?" Ginny asked, looking about as deeply invested in my personal life as a Supernatural fangirl.

"Er, well..." I really didn't want to say anything since Fang and I have never really done the 'what am I to you?' talk.

"He's your boyfriend, isn't he?" asked Pavarti Patel a few seats down.

"Well not really-"

"Is he your brother?" asked Hermione.

"In the _strictest_ sense, no-"

"So he's your boyfriend?" Lavender Brown leaned in, wanting to get her paws on the juicy gossip.

"Whoever he is, he's a looker." Ginny commented.

"Girls are going to be clamouring after him," Ron said sullenly. Boy was he a sourpuss. "Transfer students get all of the attention."

"His _legs_ in those_ jeans_, though." Pavarti and Lavender giggled. "And that _shirt_-"

"He's my boyfriend," I said sharply. I knew I would regret saying that later. "His name is Fang."

"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Hogwarts would take up arms at the thought."

"You guys have a rivalry or something?" I asked, trying to pass over the topic of Fang.

"Only the longest," Harry said. "Slytherin is the dark arts house. Everyone who graduates ends up becoming a Death Eater or a criminal."

"At least they're snazzy dressers," I quipped. Again they all looked at me. Maybe I wasn't as well suited to the Gryffindor house as the Sorting Hat thought. "Hey, evil knows how to pick as suit."

"And they know how to kill someone for it, too," Ron said gravely.

And thus, the British populace managed to ruin my entire day. Sigh.

* * *

**I had to split their first day into around three chapters from their different perspectives. Not all of the days will be like that, just the first. Draco will enter NEXT chapter. And the question of the day is...**

**Should the Flock be good at magic or not?**

**Stay gorgeous, my lovelies!**

**-Acca**


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